I don’t wear skirts anymore. I own a couple and they have been briefly on, but mostly they just hang in my closet until I decided to take them down and donate them to the women’s shelter. I would need more nerve endings in my ass to wear skirts out of the house.
I first realized there was a problem with my ass in 8th grade. My older sister came to visit and we went shopping. I was 5’8” in 8th grade and built way better than I should have been and certainly better than I am now. I decided to wear my new outfit to school. It was a fitted sweater, a flouncy skirt, some awesome Madonna mesh gloves and socks, and fabulous rubber bangle bracelets.
I was walking down the big 8th grade hallway after going to the restroom. I had double checked my makeup and admired myself in the mirror. I was definitely adorable that day. I then started to notice that everyone was noticing me. Wow. All the cute guys were staring. They were noticing the lovely way I filled out my sweater and great ass no doubt. I got a few cat calls and the guys were even elbowing each other to make sure their buddies noticed. I was even more smoking hot than I thought. My friend, Gwen, called me over to her locker. I leaned against her locker and said, “Hi.” She complimented my outfit. I thanked her. Gwen said, “You know what would look even better?” I said, “What?” thinking, “Fool girl! This doesn’t get better!” Gwen replied, “If your skirt wasn’t completely tucked in your underwear in the back” as she reached behind me and pulled my skirt out of my panties and back down over my ass.
I didn’t give up on skirts then. There are too many cute skirts out there.
Mrs. Stoner, my 9th grade English almost never let anyone go to the restroom during her class. I really needed to go, so I pulled the “I need to go put eye drops in my eye” bit. It wasn’t a lie. I had a tumor when I was younger and they removed the tumor (tear gland) so that eye gets painfully dry. I only cry out of one eye. Stoner reluctantly let me go. I was walking down the hall wearing a pink oxford shirt, a grey and pink pleated wool skirt, and penny loafers with shiny new pennies. I was friggin’ adorable. I was a vision of preppy loveliness. I passed Marcus Pierce’s classroom and he admired me and gave a whistle. I thanked him and continued. I used the restroom, put in my drops, and started back to class. Passing Marcus again, he whistled. I thanked him again. He whistled more loudly. I said, “Got it. Thanks Marcus.” He whistled even louder. I said, “Yeah Marcus. Thanks. I get it. Looking good. Shhhh!”
I got to class, walked in front to the other side of the room and took my seat at my desk in the far rear corner of the classroom. A few minutes later, Stoner called me up to her desk. I walked up, leaned on my elbows on her desk and said, “Yes?” She called me around to the side. I walked around, squatted down (knees together! I am a lady) next to her. Stoner then reached around and pulled my skirt out of my underwear and back down over my ass. Wow. Apparently only one student noticed and notified her. That is amazing considering I did just bend over with my ass pointed at the whole classroom.
It isn’t even like it is a small ass either. I was given such lovely nicknames as shelf butt, bubble butt, watermelon butt, Marilyn Goober butt, big butt, bazooka butt. What I am trying to impart is I have a big butt. If I cannot be trusted to keep it covered or keep an eye on what is going on with it, I have no business strutting it out in public in a skirt. I can stick with slacks and jeans.